


[C] Summoning Circle

by OneofWebs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Body Worship, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Falling In Love, First Time Blow Jobs, Happy Ending, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Miscommunication, Oral Sex, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 23:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22005964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: Azira A. Fell is lonely. He thought that he had the life that he wanted, but it's not worth as much as he thought, if he's by himself. A quick trip back home to visit his best friend, Anathema Device, really should be the only pick up that he needs. She jokingly suggests that Azira summon a demon to keep him company, but she never imagined that he'd actually go through with it. Azira never imagined what sort of demon he'd get.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 487





	[C] Summoning Circle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShoutyBoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShoutyBoi/gifts).



> Ayyy this fic was really really fun to write. I almost wish I could have turned it into an entire series to drag it out; I really loved the idea when it was brought to me, and getting to write it was an absolute pleasure and privilege. I really hope you guys enjoy this!
> 
> There is a mention of transphobia, but it's incredibly mild and not the main focus of the story. I tag for it just in case, but honestly it's a blink and you miss it sorta thing.

The thing about Anathema was that she knew a lot of things about the types of things they wouldn’t teach in school. She had always been the type of girl who’d sat off by herself to read books she’d found in the basement of her grandmother’s house. Those were the type of books that didn’t seem to have publishers or truly named authors. It was just a book of things and pictures, stuff that no one else at school had understood. Not only that, but they were things that no one else at school  _ agreed  _ with.

Their school had been a little bit stingy and a lot bit strict. Anathema had  _ had _ to sit off in the corner by herself, because if any of the teachers had seen what she read, they would have taken her books from her immediately and sent her in for discipline. She read on things like witchcraft and demons. Even the lesser books, the ones on herbs and oils, would have been frowned upon. Still, Anathema read those books, and she was certainly something of an expect. Even back then, she was an expect. She had  _ always  _ been an expert.

Back then Azira had been the first one who ever dared approach Anathema. They’d been fast friends, what with Azira’s natural curiosity and Anathema’s natural propensity to teach. The other kids called her a know-it-all, stuck up, and rude. Azira called her insightful, intelligent, and thoughtful. More than that, Anathema was accepting. Where the other kids had never been entirely fond of Azira, either, Anathema was incredibly fond of her.

Anathema’s fondness didn’t stop when Azira went from  _ she _ to  _ he _ . Anathema had called it  _ Operation: Drop the S _ , and Azira had laughed about it for days. Anathema had that sort of charm, where everything seemed easy and witty with her around. Azira had cherished her friendship, her comments, and her opinions for as long as he could remember.

That hadn’t changed once they’d grown up, either. Where they had met when they were both just children in a tightly bound religious school, they had remained close throughout lives. Azira had already found his way out of Tadfield, though he hadn’t gone far. He owned a bookshop in the South Downs, whereas Anathema was still trying to scrape together enough money to leave entirely. She could be found, on most days, minding an old dusty antique shop where she tried, too often, to use it to peddle her own goods. The dream was a fashion school.

The traveling time wasn’t so bad, but there were things like phones to use for idle chat. Azira wasn’t taking a cab down, back to Tadfield for idle chat. Some might have considered it idle, but Azira was just lonely. He’d been on his own in the South Downs since he’d left Tadfield. Even he and Anathema, good friends as they were, didn’t talk as often as he might have liked. She was about all the family he had to speak of, especially after  _ Operation: Drop the S. _ If anyone would be able to help him, it would be Anathema.

She’d always helped him before, anyway.

When he arrived at the antique shop, the sign was readily flipped to  _ open _ , though it had never much looked inviting. It was the sort of shop that locals avoided and visitors flocked to, which was just the type of shop Anathema wanted to work in. Visitors were far and few between, which made it a wonderful place to relax and sort about her own, personal affairs while she collected a paycheck. She’d always said that her best designs had come from sitting behind the antique counter all day, without a single customer for hours.

That was exactly where Azira found her, with her legs properly crossed and a sketchbook in her hands like she hadn’t even heard the entry bell ring upon his arrival. She had heard it well enough, and when Azira approached the counter, she smiled up at him.

“If it isn’t Mister Azira A. Fell, back from the fancy success to visit little ol’Anathema,” she said, her smile more a cunning smirk.

“I meant to stop by sooner, I do assure you. Things got busy, you know—”

“Do you actually sell those old books you collect?” Anathema asked. “I thought you were just in the business of displaying them. Really, you should start a museum.”

“I do sell books!” he insisted. “I am quite well off in my current station, you see.”

“That’s the  _ I’m trying to convince you as much as I’m trying to convince myself _ voice,” Anathema drawled, rolling her eyes. She pushed up her glasses and set aside her sketchbook. “What seems to be the issue?”

Azira bit into his lip and sighed. “I—I’m having many of them. Perhaps we could get dinner, this evening? When the shop is closed, I mean. I wouldn’t want to take you from your very busy work.”

Anathema snorted. “That old coffee shop cafe we used to eat at is still running. How about I meet you there at six?”

That was exactly what they planned to do, and exactly what they did. At six, precisely, Azira was already sitting down at one of the window tables. He’d arrived early enough to get it but hadn’t truly sat down until the time Anathema would arrive. He’d only ordered a cup of tea, at that time, and when Anathema did arrive, they ordered their true meal for the evening. Azira’s famous appetite hadn’t diminished in all those years. He’d always been bigger as a child, and that certainly hadn’t changed as he got older.

Azira dressed much like he did when he was a child, too. He wore beige and tartan and old-fashioned things. Anathema had worn things like that, too, when she was young. She always assumed Azira was in it for the same reason she was—because it’s what their parents dressed them in. It just seemed to be his style, though, whereas Anathema had diverged off towards something slightly Gothic.

“Issues,” Anathema said, without preamble. They’d been friends long enough to skip past the formalities and pleasantries of meeting. “What are they?”

“Right to the point, then,” Azira chided.

“Did you want me to skate around it and talk about the weather?” she asked, eying him over the top of her glass.

“Alright, alright, you’ve made your point.” Azira sighed, then, and leaned into his hand. “Things have been hard. The customers are nice enough, but that’s all there is—customers. I’ve made no friends, not really. The  _ only _ romantic interaction I’ve had, well—it didn’t end well.” Azira wrung his hands together at the memory.

He’d been an entirely nice fellow, truly, but he hadn’t been all that excited to find out the  _ truth _ of Azira. Azira would never regret  _ Operation: Drop the S _ , as he’d never felt more himself. That didn’t mean there weren’t times when things were difficult, complicated, in the face of the way people viewed him.

“I do feel better having come here, to visit, I mean,” Azira smiled. “Perhaps, I’m just being a bit dramatic.”

“You’re lonely.” Anathema had him pegged the moment he’d started speaking. “You’re lonely, and you think that one dinner with me is going to fix that.”

“Well, not exactly—”

“With as shy as you are, you might as well just jump straight for the demon summoning,” Anathema joked.

“P-pardon me?” Azira winced. “Demon summoning?”

“Get you a nice incubus, I bet,” Anathema laughed. “Covers all the bases of needing a nice companion. I can even give you a book.”

“You’re not serious!” Azira gasped. “You can’t be!”

“It’s a joke, relax,” Anathema assured. “You just need to get out more. Join a book club. Volunteer somewhere. You’ve got the time, don’t you?”

“Well, yes.” Azira was still frowning. Anathema looked as though she was serious, that the whole demon idea had been a joke. Still, Azira didn’t believe her. It was deflection, as he didn’t really care for the way the idea sounded  _ good _ .

Still, they didn’t speak of it for the rest of the evening. They dined, they drank tea, and they returned to Anathema’s home to send the night. There was little in the way of sleeping, when they ended up spending the night pouring over Anathema’s sketchbook and half-finished designs. She was really quite good, and she knew how to design for every size. For the holidays the year prior, she’d sent Azira his very own custom waistcoat in just the style and color he preferred, and he’d worn it until the buttons popped.

Everything should have been normal. Everything should have been fine. Azira returned to his book shop, and life resumed as normal. Except it wasn’t entirely normal, not with that idea buzzing about in his head. The more he thought about it, the less normal things seemed.

A demon summoning was the absolute most ridiculous thing that Azira had ever heard. Anathema hadn’t meant it; she surely hadn’t. Yet, Azira couldn’t get it out of his mind. It would be the perfect solution to his loneliness, because the demon would, quite literally, be contractually bound to do nothing but talk to him, if that’s all he wanted. Azira believed so, anyway. It was the first step that had led him to actually researching the proper steps. It was foolish, it was stupid, and he was doing it.

There were books and web pages and articles that he sifted through. No word was left unturned on Azira’s quest to find out if this was something he wanted to even entertain. The issue remained where he was already entertaining the idea. The research was in attempts to shut himself down, and it wasn’t working. Every word that he read seemed another good reason to do this. Every picture that he saw was a  _ better _ reason to do this—the pictures were all but pornographic in nature, and they’d left Azira squirming in his seat.

While Azira would never openly admit it, not even to himself, that had been the deciding factor in the chalk, the candles, and the book. It had been such a  _ long _ time since Azira had had sex. Without the reminder, he thought he’d be entirely fine. It wasn’t as if he openly lusted after people on the street, longing that they might find him attractive enough to take him proper in some musty hotel room. Still, he couldn’t deny the way that he yearned for something, even if it was just once.

He would, rather, say that it was just his desire to talk. Even if he was in want for something more, all he meant to do with whatever demon he would summon was  _ talk _ . Maybe he’d ask some questions about things he learned in school or ask for information about a time that a demon was surely alive for, where he hadn’t been. There were plenty of interesting conversations to have with a demon, even if that demon was specifically designed to have sex.

Besides, as he’d read, incubuses were said to only lay with  _ sleeping _ people. Azira would be quite awake when he performed the summoning, as it was a summoning and not some happenstance thing in which the demon had stumbled upon him. This would be different, he assured. So, very different.

He’d drawn the circle on the floor of his bookshop, where it would be easily hidden by the circle rug he’d moved aside. The bookshop was the perfect place for a summoning, because why would he ever want to have sex in his own place of business? Certainly not; he wasn’t that type of man. Then, he’d lit the candles. He’d opened the books. He’d said the spells. He’d watched the lights flicker and things fly.

That was how he landed where he was, collapsed back in his chair with his eyes wide, staring at a  _ demon _ , who had sprawled out on his sofa in the wake of all that had happened. In hindsight, Azira didn’t even know why he  _ had _ a sofa in the bookshop, and now he was regretting it. No demon had any right to look as good as this one did.

In fact, no demon had the right to look anything like this one. All the pictures, despite their pornographic equivalencies, had all pictured demons with horns and multiple limbs, eyes. They’d even had tails. They’d been animalistic, in many pictures. This demon, sprawled out on Azira’s sofa, looked  _ human _ . There was of course the smattering of scales around his neck and the bright, golden, yellow slitted eyes that he had, but everything else about this demon was human.

The demon had sharp red hair, long and parted to the right. There were glasses perched on the edge of his sharp nose. His clothes were tight and leather, to the point where Azira might have even wondered how he fit into them if he wasn’t too busy staring. The tightness of the demon’s pants gave no mystery to the bulge of his cock; Azira wondered if all incubuses just arrived like that—hard.

“This is unusual,” the demon said. He’d taken one look at Azira and summed him up well as an older, lonelier sort of type. Usually easy to please. This wouldn’t be complicated, except that everything wasn’t quite the way it was supposed to be. “Don’t usually  _ summon _ an incubus, you know. We tend to just show up.”

“Yes, well, I was hoping to avoid all the bits that came with the just showing up,” Azira said, brow furrowed.

The demon raised an eyebrow. “The bits? You mean like—sex? Maybe you misread whatever books you humans got running around, but sex is part of the job. It’s what we  _ do _ .”

Azira gulped. “Um. Do you have a name?”

“Crowley,” the demon responded. “You?”

“Azira.”

“Azira, who wants to skip all the bits of an incubus. Why’d you summon me, then?”

“I was hoping for someone to talk to?” Azira said, wincing, like he didn’t quite believe himself anyway.

Then, he was forced to sit there in silence as Crowley just looked at him. Crowley, who’d sprawled out knees spread on his couch, head resting in his hand on the arm, spent a good bit of time just staring. Apparently, Crowley didn’t need to blink, because he hadn’t. Not for five whole, silent minutes, where Crowley was just staring. He looked Azira up and down, from his head to his toes to every detail of his clothing.

“Shame,” Crowley finally said. “Might have liked the extra bits, this time. Not a lot of humans to say that about.”

“Wh-what?” Azira blinked. His face had already gone a deep red, just at the thought.

“I’ve been around for a bit,” Crowley shrugged. “One of those demons that hangs out on Earth. Lot less hot, up here, you know. Means you get to know a lot of humans. Some of them aren’t so worth knowing.” Then, Crowley pushed himself up the sofa to take a step towards Azira. “Some of them are. Most of them aren’t even worth the fuck,” he said, leaning over where his hands clamped firmly on the arms of Azira’s chair. Azira took note of the long, sharp fingernails.

“You, though?” Crowley smirked. “You’d be worth  _ all of it. _ ”

Azira gulped, in response.

Crowley ghosted a finger down Aziraphale’s front, over the line of his buttons on his jacket. “Might like to see what’s under all these stuffy clothes, too. It’s always the stuffy ones, you know, that scream the loudest. Always the ones with the darkest little secrets. You have any secrets, Azira?”

Azira  _ did _ have secrets. He had one very big secret that he would hope, of everything that exists, an incubus wouldn’t care about. That didn’t mean he had the courage to say it, even if an incubus shouldn’t care. Maybe the incubus would care more than everyone Azira had ever met, and how would that feel? Azira didn’t want to know. He wanted to keep his secret to himself, but there was something about this demon that was so tantalizing. The shine of those scales that peaked through skin, the look of his eyes, the sheen of his hair. Azira would be a fool to not find Crowley attractive.

It had been so long since Azira had felt hands on him, like this. Crowley had no qualms about touching him, cupping his chin or his jaw. He pressed his palm firmly into Azira’s chest and looked quite pleased with the give of it. The last time Azira had a partner, it was nothing like this. It was hard, quick, and for no other reason than a mutual release. Azira hadn’t ever wanted that again and feared that’s exactly what would have happened with an incubus. But Crowley’s eyes were wide with awe and wonder, like he  _ meant _ it, when he said he wanted to see what was under Azira’s clothes.

“We don’t have to, of course,” Crowley said. “We can bind your contract on words alone, if all you want to do is talk.”

Azira said nothing.

“Azira,” Crowley smiled. “That is, unless you want to do more than talk. In fact, we don’t need to talk, at all.” To make his point, he tugged at the bow tie tight around Azira’s neck. It fell apart, immediately, and Azira gulped.

“Just say the word,” Crowley whispered, leaning closer. Closer, until their breath mingled, and they were only inches apart. “Unless, you don’t want to talk. There’s all sorts of ways to communicate.”

It had been  _ so _ long since Azira had something. Since he’d had anything. Just the promise of what might come, even if it was through a  _ demon  _ whose  _ job _ it was to do this, to make him feel pleasure and wanted, Azira still wanted it.

“Just once,” Azira whispered back. “Just the once.”

“Of course. Whatever you want, whatever you  _ need _ . You’ll have it. As often as you like.”

When Crowley closed the distance with a heavy kiss, their contract was sealed. The surge of power that flew through them both was wonderfully warm, pleasant, and it had Azira already dripping. Crowley still didn’t know his secret, but it wouldn’t matter. Crowley wound find out eventually, and Azira could only hope that it wouldn’t matter to a demon.

Azira gasped when Crowley picked him up. He’d scooped Azira right out of the chair, without so much as a stumble, and deposited him onto the sofa. They hadn’t parted their kiss until Crowley had him spread out beneath him, and then, it was only because Crowley wanted to  _ watch  _ as he peeled layer after layer of clothes away. When it came down to just Azira’s shirt, Azira closed his eyes tightly. And then, there was shock as Crowley ignored the buttons of his shirt and went to start working on his trousers, instead.

“What do you have for me, down here?” Crowley asked, humming. He worked away at Azira’s belt, but never took his eyes off Azira. “You humans are always so hard to pick apart.”

“I—” Azira wasn’t sure what to say to that, but it certainly made it easier when Crowley pulled away his trousers to leave him in nothing but his underwear. Without trousers to hide anything, it was very clear that Azira was missing something that men tended to have.

And Crowley wasn’t the least bit bothered. Crowley ran his hands up Azira’s thighs to land over the mound of his vulva, and he looked  _ hungry _ . He didn’t even bother to remove Azira’s underwear before he was down, between Azira’s thighs, to lick over the already wet mess of his cunt. There was that thin layer of fabric to keep him from tasting fully, but Azira shuddered all the same. He’d never felt something like that, and Crowley had a tongue like nothing he’d ever known. It was long and forked, and it could press between his folds, even through his underwear, and leave Azira gasping for more.

With Azira suddenly excitedly and whole-heartedly enjoying what Crowley had to offer, Crowley saw no reason to slow it any longer. He pulled back to rid Azira of the rest of his clothes. The underwear went first, yet still, when Crowley tried to unbutton his shirt, Azira went stiff beneath him.

“Something wrong? There’s no second thoughts in a demon pact,” Crowley said. “I might be willing to consider for such a pretty little angel, but I’d like to know.”

“I—I’m,” Azira gulped. “I’m nothing to look at.”

Crowley snorted. “Humans always think that about themselves. They don’t see like I see. So, let me  _ see _ .”

Something in the way Crowley spoke had Azira  _ believing _ him, so he dropped his hands down beside his head and watched, eyes wide, as Crowley pulled apart the buttons of his shirt. Crowley didn’t even bother getting the shirt off of him, when it fell open. He was too busy  _ staring _ at the expanse of skin that had just been revealed to him. He didn’t waste a single moment before he was down, mouthing over a single, rough looking scar that curved along the underside of Azira’s left pectoral.

Azira  _ shuddered _ at the feeling of Crowley’s tongue, Crowley’s lips. Crowley worshiped over the scars on his chest before moving up, licking over Azira’s nipple just to hear the way that he gasped. Crowley didn’t linger long, dragging his tongue farther up Azira’s body to suck over his neck, nipping and biting here or there until purple little marks were blooming up over Azira’s skin. Some of them would certainly be too high to hide, and that’s exactly what Crowley wanted.

Crowley left Azira’s chest and neck littered in those little purple bruises before he pulled back, leaving only his hands to smooth down Azira’s sides. He pressed over every roll and bump of Azira’s skin until he came to rest at his hips, where Crowley stopped so he could take in the full of Azira, entirely naked. There wasn’t a piece of him that wasn’t so pleasantly fat, even his pelvic mound was nice and soft. Crowley licked his lips and wouldn’t let his appreciation go unnoticed.

“You’re  _ better _ than what I thought,” Crowley said, his voice like a hiss. “Look at you, all spread out for me. I can’t wait to taste you, oh, angel, I’m going to  _ savor _ you.”

If they would only do this once, Crowley would have to. He’d want to remember the way Azira tasted for the rest of their time together, however long that would be.

“Look how pretty you are,” Crowley crooned. “Spread your legs open for me, angel. I’ll show you how  _ wonderful  _ this can be.”

Azira didn’t want to disobey. He spread his legs open, just like Crowley asked, and Crowley rewarded him well. Azira actually  _ watched _ as Crowley’s nails seemed to shorten, instantly, before Crowley’s fingers were rubbing down through those fat folds, of his. Crowley held his lips apart, massaging the sensitive skin there before dipping his tongue back there, lapping through the pearling drops of slick. Azira shuddered all around him, with thighs threatening to clamp down. Crowley kept Azira calm, where his free hand massaged over his thigh, through the white curls neatly trimmed over his mound.

Crowley licked and lapped until he could press the fork of his tongue right along the underside of Azira’s fat, little clit. The touch alone had Azira keening, his hips bucking up to try and get closer down to Crowley’s mouth. It was with his sudden eagerness that the bend of Crowley’s tongue pressed into him as something thick and wet, while the fork still played over his clit. It was all the sudden stimulation that he hadn’t been expecting, and Azira shuddered with this rush of pleasure.

“Crowley—” Azira cried out, and his moans only surged Crowley forward, to get his much of his tongue inside as he could while still being able to flick his tongue. He could feel every inch of Azira that shuddered and quivered around him, from the way that his thighs jiggled to the way that his hole clenched down, trying to take Crowley further inside.

It didn’t take longer than a minute of Crowley’s touch, his tongue, for Azira to find the crest of his pleasure. He came in a sudden gush of fluids down Crowley’s chin, and Crowley didn’t stop until he’d tasted all of it, in its entirety. Then, he pulled away, smoothing his hands back up Azira’s thighs to soothe him through the aftershocks. Crowley could tell how long it’d been since Azira had a proper orgasm, and he almost felt a bit  _ bad _ .

“That was beautiful,” Crowley told him. “You taste good as anything, you know. I’d let you try it, but it’s  _ mine _ ,” he hissed.

He captured Azira in a kiss, a gentle one where they moved together while Crowley worked himself out of his own clothes. He didn’t part once, not even when he’d shifted to work his cock out of his trousers. He had his tongue as far down Azira’s throat as he could stand, their lips moving together in tandem. Azira moaned and whimpered through the whole thing, and then gasped into Crowley’s mouth at the weight of his cock, suddenly pressed into his mound.

Crowley’s fingers followed, and every shift Crowley had to make was just another press of his cock into Azira’s skin. Azira could feel how long it was, how it seemed just the right thickness that it would fill him up  _ perfectly _ , but it wouldn’t hurt. The stretch would be enough to leave him feeling full and satisfied. Azira  _ longed  _ for it, already, and Crowley’s fingers were only proving to stoke that fire. Crowley was just rubbing him, and already, Azira could feel that pleasure building up, again.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped, when Crowley finally pulled away from their kiss. “Crowley,  _ please _ .”

“Oh, listen to you beg,” Crowley grinned. “You beg so prettily. You’ll get what you need when it’s time, I promise. I just need you to be good for me, okay?”

Azira nodded quickly.

“Good, good. Oh, you’re being  _ wonderfully _ behaved,” Crowley hummed, dragging his lips along Azira’s jaw. “Do you know how good you feel, angel?”

Azira shook his head. He had no idea what it felt like to be inside of himself. He wasn’t exactly the type to seek out his own pleasures, but Crowley seemed set on changing that. The way that Crowley moved his fingers, brushed his thumb into Azira’s clit, Azira wondered if this was possible to do to himself. If he could lay out in his bed, maybe, and spread open his thighs and fuck himself, like this. Crowley would certainly do a better job than anything Azira could, inexperienced as he was, but this was something Azira didn’t want to  _ stop _ experiencing.

Then, Crowley crooked his fingers. He pressed just right, and Azira shouted out with a sudden rush that he hadn’t been expecting. Fire burned through his body and left him warm, trembling, and begging out through panted breaths for more. Crowley obliged. Crowley seemed to do nothing  _ but _ oblige, as if he knew what Azira wanted— _ needed _ —before Azira did. Azira would gladly put himself in Crowley’s hands like that, at any time.

When Crowley’s fingers disappeared, there wasn’t a second wasted before it was Crowley’s cockhead up against Azira’s folds instead. He could feel the blunt press of Crowley’s prick and it had him moaning before Crowley had even  _ moved _ . When Crowley did move, when he pressed forward in a smooth, slick slide, Azira’s moan broke off into a needy whimper. It had been so  _ long _ since Azira had this.

“So good,” Crowley told him. “You feel so good, angel. You look even better, you do.” Crowley leaned down, then, pressing his hips as close as he could get them. Azira moaned through the whole move and didn’t protest when Crowley captured him in another kiss. “Good enough to eat, I say,” Crowley teased.

“Crowley,  _ please _ ,” Aziraphale begged again.

“You hold on, if you need to.” Crowley winked. “You’ll need to.”

Crowley didn’t pull back far enough that Azira couldn’t grab his shoulders, and Azira did just that. Crowley had him grasped by the hips to keep him steady, and then Crowley was thrusting. He moved just like one might expect an incubus to move—with purpose, with  _ skill _ . This certainly wasn’t the first time Crowley had taken someone proper, like this, and Azira was glad for it. Every thrust of his hips was so perfectly placed that there wasn’t any room for thinking. All Azira could do was grip his nails into Crowley’s skin and cry out for him.

Azira’s mind went blank with the feeling, the mounting pleasure. Crowley didn’t let him have moment of reprieve, fucking him at just the pace that he needed—enough that he could forget what he’d agreed to. He  _ needed _ this. He needed Crowley whispering in his ear how good he was, how beautiful he looked all spread open, how  _ wet _ he was. He needed the hard slap of Crowley’s hips into his own, the weight inside of him. Crowley had been hot and ready since he’d arrived, and only now did he get any chance to prove that it was worth it.

Crowley’s hand had found its way between them, then, and he played over Azira’s clit. Azira’s entire body spasmed with the sudden touch, and it didn’t take long for his walls to clamp down over Crowley’s cock with his sudden rush of a second orgasm. Crowley didn’t even stop. He continued to move, a renewed vigor in his pace. He fucked Azira through his orgasm, rubbing over his sensitive little clit. Azira’s entire mind had gone white with pleasure, how Crowley just seemed to make it last forever, until a third one was happening all over again right on top of it.

Crowley didn’t stop until he was certain Azira couldn’t take a second more. Only then did Crowley allow himself to really  _ bask _ in that feeling of Azira’s pleasure. Only then did Crowley finally pull back so he could find his own finish over Aziraphale’s chest, where he came in excess like it proved just how good he’d felt, too.

“You did marvelous,” Crowley said. “Disappointed that I don’t get to do that, again.”

Azira breathed out a half-hearted laugh.

“Anytime you wanna chat, you just call me up. I’ll be around.” Crowley pinched Azira’s nose for good measure.

With a spread of red magic, Crowley was gone. He took the evidence that anything had happened with him. Azira was left with nothing but a memory, where even his clothes had been returned in perfect condition. The sofa was still warm, and Azira still had that wonderful rush of pleasure thrumming through him, but everything else was gone. Crowley was, too. For how long, well, that seemed left entirely up to Azira.

Azira managed to make it two days before he called on Crowley again. This time, he was sure that he wouldn’t fall back into the demon’s wiles, and certainly not onto his own sofa. It wasn’t anything to do with how he was stronger, this time, but it was in the conditions of the contract. They would lie together once, and after that, every subsequent time Azira called on Crowley, Crowley would arrive just to  _ talk _ . The bookshop was a perfect place for just talking, as that’s essentially what it was designed for. Crowley didn’t even stick out among the customers, not in a way that they could see.

Crowley had been idly about the shop all morning, watching as customers flitted in and out with their books and their money. He’d even  _ helped _ a customer or two find a book, reach a book that was just out of their way. It was like he was a rightful employee, as decent and considerate as he was. Azira had a hard time focusing on his task at the register, when Crowley was doing things like that. Azira didn’t know many demons, in fact, he only knew the one; still, from his reading, he was sure that most demons didn’t help young people find books.

There were the occasional moments where Crowley looked to be  _ flirting _ with the customers, but Azira tried to ignore that. This wasn’t a contract in perpetuity. If Crowley was looking for his next human soul, then that was fine. It was not only his right, but in his nature. Being an incubus, it was probably a difficult ask to keep him celibate for so long. But really, what did Azira know about a demon? What did he know about  _ this _ demon? With the customers, there wasn’t much time to talk and find out, but the day would always dwindle to an end.

With their last customer— _ his _ last customer, Azira had to remind himself, Crowley was watching the transaction, leaning over the counter. It was the first time he’d been near Azira all day, and Azira was finding that he was a bit tart for it. Crowley should have been with him the entire time, because that’s what he’d summoned him for. Even if Azira had enjoyed having him in the shop all day, doing whatever it was he found necessary, he still enjoyed this far more. He even found it rather cute, the way that Crowley waved the customer off after he’d made his purchase.

“What’s it stand for?” Crowley asked. “Azira A. Fell. The A. Why name a bookshop after yourself, anyway?” Crowley’s brows crinkled.

“The A stands for Angel,” Azira frowned. “My family was a big  _ religious _ , you might say.”

“That must be why you taste so good,” Crowley laughed, hopping up to sit on the counter. “I love defiling religious folk. Where are they, then? The family?”

“I don’t know. We don’t keep in contact.”

“What for?”

“They had a daughter,” Azira said, stiffly.

Crowley didn’t much understand the intricacies of human gender, and he said it out loud. Demons—and angels, on his word—didn’t  _ have _ any of that. Crowley could be anything he wanted to be at a moment’s notice. All it took was a bit of magic, and he could morph his body in any way he desired. Whether that be as simple as turning into a woman, or something more complicated like turning into an animal. He was truly quite versatile, and he didn’t understand why humans, as adaptable as they were, were so caught up on the silly things.

“It’s not silly,” Azira insisted.

“No, not like that. I just mean it’s not what should matter, right? I’ve been hanging around Earth for a few thousand years, at this point,” Crowley grimaced. “I  _ like _ humans, I really do. Sometimes, though, I don’t get you. We’re told you humans are all about  _ love _ —that’s how the Almighty made you. And then I sit up here a few thousand years, watch countless of mothers throw away their kids for stupid stuff like words.”

Azira blinked.

“Just doesn’t seem right. Seems to me, if I can be anything, humans should get to be anything too.”

Azira found himself smiling. It wasn’t quite the same concept, but he found himself truly appreciating the enthusiasm in which Crowley spoke about it. Crowley really  _ believed _ that things like gender and words didn’t matter, so he looked at what Azira’s family had done, and all but damned them for it. There had been many people Azira had found, over the years, that  _ agreed  _ with his family. Crowley wasn’t the first to agree with him, but Crowley had done it so vehemently that Azira didn’t have any room to doubt.

“You shorten it down to an A because it sounds like a girl?” Crowley asked.

Azira nodded.

“Good.  _ Azira Angel _ sounds awful,” Crowley grinned to himself. Azira found himself laughing, truly and genuinely.

In the following day, Azira had no qualms about summoning Crowley for a long bit of talk. The shop was slow, so Crowley had no excuse but to lounge on the sofa and chat, where he would have been playing it up with customers. The only issue was in the lounging; apparently, Crowley wasn’t just always aroused, it was that his cock barely fit into his pants. He must have known the way Azira struggled not to stare, or surely, he’d employ some of that body morphing and get rid of it.

Still, those were seemingly Azira’s thoughts and Azira’s thoughts alone. Crowley was rather wrapped up in a story of his, where they’d been talking for the last three hours over now cold cups of tea about Crowley’s life on Earth. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d lived on Earth for thousands of years. There was absolutely plenty that he didn’t know, or he hadn’t seen. He was only one demon, after all, and rather wrapped up with the whole incubus job for most of it. Still, there were a few things that he was positively adamant about.

“No! No, that’s simply not true,” Crowley said, pushing up from the sofa so he could plant his feet on the ground. “I know you humans like to tell stories, but that’s crazy!”

“All of the books say it, Crowley. How can you dispute what so many people have passed down?”

“Nero was crazy! Of course, they wanted to make him look bad! He wasn’t anything like Caesar, you have to understand. The people didn’t like him!”

“All the more reason that he would have enjoyed watching the city burn.”

“Oh, but I was there!” Crowley insisted. “There was no  _ fiddling _ while Rome burned. That’s stupid. Who even came up with that?”

“Wait—you were there?” Azira leaned forward, his eyes suddenly wide.

“Yes! That’s what I’m trying to tell you! I was there—Nero  _ helped _ get people out of the city. Maybe he fiddled later when people were safer, but Hell, I don’t think anyone was laughing.”

“Amazing,” Azira breathed, leaning back into his chair. “There’s so much about history we don’t know, isn’t there?”

“Hey,” Crowley raised his hands, “don’t start asking me. Plenty that I don’t know, too. Only found out about the Spanish Inquisition years after it happened—Hell tried to give me a commendation for it.”

“Commendation?”

“Yeah, you know, like  _ good job for that one, really helps the numbers of the legions _ , sorta thing. I took it, of course. Makes me look real good. Nobody in Hell really thinks much of my kind, but since I’m the only one who hangs out up here, they just assumed I did it. Thought it was too evil for humans to do on their own.”

“And you didn’t cause the Spanish Inquisition, then?”

Crowley shook his head. “Think I’d know if I did.”

Azira couldn’t help the dopey little smile that appeared on his face. Crowley had no business being as charming as he was, and there wasn’t even a part of Azira that assumed that this feeling beginning to blossom was anything other than his own. As far as he knew, an incubus couldn’t  _ force _ him to feel this way, warm and happy. Safe. Azira not only enjoyed speaking with Crowley, but at the end of the day, at the end of Crowley’s stories, Azira had never felt so disastrously alone.

But that was just how they continued. Azira could hardly wait until the sun was up to call Crowley back to him, and Crowley would always arrive in that same, ridiculous leather outfit he wore, complete with glasses and freshly styled hair. He always looked  _ good _ . Some days, they would just sit in the bookshop and talk—it was the only place that Azira had made the circle, so it was the only place that he could summon Crowley. But, some days, they would go out.

There was so much of human culture that Crowley hadn’t had a reason to participate in. He wasn’t human. Things like dinners and movies weren’t exactly things demons did, but Crowley made an exception for Azira. Some days, they would go out to eat. Crowley would manage to pay for the entire meal out, wine included, without having even the space for a wallet in his pants. He let Azira order whatever he wanted, at the fanciest restaurants. Crowley would even  _ drive _ them there, in an old-fashioned Bentley.

Azira really had started to wonder if Crowley just lived on Earth, or if it was only an idle existence like he seemed to describe. Either way, it meant that he was here, and that’s precisely where Azira wanted him. The longer they spent together, the more that Azira felt that growing warmth in his stomach, in his chest. The only issue was that Crowley felt it too.

Incubus could feel certain things. Crowley wasn’t exactly a normal incubus, not with the number of things that he did for the pure niceness of it, but he could still feel these things. He could feel lust, which he’d felt just about since he’d first arrived in Azira’s presence, but there was something growing up underneath it. Crowley wasn’t stupid. He thought about it often, through the weeks that they met. Underneath of that lust, to the point where it had overgrown and consumed, was  _ love _ .

Azira loved someone. Crowley wasn’t sure who, but he wasn’t around all the time. Rightfully, he wasn’t involved in every facet of Aziraphale’s life. He’d only been there the times that Azira had summoned him. That was plenty of time for Azira to find someone to care for—a human who would satisfy his needs and not potentially drag him down into the depths of Hell. Crowley wouldn’t want to do that, but there were certain side-effects of being with a demon for too long, especially an incubus.

That didn’t stop anything. Crowley was an incubus, and at his core, there was one thing that he tended to divert too. Especially at the end of the night, after a beautiful meal at a local diner. They’d returned to Azira’s bookshop, where Azira had promptly opened a bottle of wine to share. Crowley was finding that, of all the things Azira had shared with him, he was starting to like wine the best. There was one thing that he liked more, but he tried not to think about it.

“I had a wonderful night, dear,” Azira said, just in the way that he did, because he’d started calling Crowley that.  _ Dear _ . Crowley tried to ignore it.

“I’m glad,” he said, already half a wine glass down. He wasn’t sure what else to say. He wasn’t sure what to think. Where to look. It was like the entire bookshop was filled with Azira’s  _ new love _ , and Crowley wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“It’s almost like these have turned into dates,” Azira laughed. Apparently, he was a bit of a light weight, and Crowley had never minded his giggling fits.

“Dates? Another human thing?” Crowley asked.

“Oh, yes,” Azira said, plopping down on the sofa beside Crowley. “Humans do them all the time. They go out, eat, drink, see the sights—all so they can know each other better.”

“And do we?” Crowley asked. “Do we know each other better?”

“I think so. I think we know each other quite well.”

Azira had said that with a sort of look in his eye that had  _ Crowley  _ squirming. He couldn’t believe that Azira didn’t think highly of himself, given the way that he was. He was coy without even trying, and just the look of him always had Crowley in a bit of a flutter. This was dangerous. Crowley was an incubus, and he shouldn’t have  _ cared _ that it was dangerous. He shouldn’t have cared that he could feel the deep, permeation of love somewhere in the shop. He should have just taken what he wanted—taken what he  _ needed _ .

He didn’t.

When Azira’s hand landed on his thigh, Crowley pushed himself off the sofa and straightened his jacket. He couldn’t stay. He needed to leave and sort things out. To figure out what he was going to do about this; there was reasonably no way for him to figure out where Azira’s love was going, but he could at least understand what he was going to do about it. Was he going to mind it and leave, so Azira could do what he truly needed? Or was he going to disregard it and take what he wanted?

“I need to go,” Crowley said. “Demon business, you understand. I’ll be around.”

Azira hadn’t even a chance to speak before Crowley was gone: disappeared in a spread of red magic. If not for those things that Crowley did, with magic, Azira might have forgotten Crowley was a demon at all. He was so human, sometimes. So considerate. So much of everything that Azira had never read a demon could be—and he  _ missed _ Crowley, immediately.

He didn’t see Crowley for days, after that. No matter how he tried to summon, no matter the time, Crowley wouldn’t appear. Azira had tried for hours, one Saturday morning. He was usually closed on the weekends, but he’d come into the shop for this one special occasion, that he might get to see Crowley again. Azira performed the summoning and spent such a time looking around the bookshop for any place that Crowley might have appeared. Crowley wasn’t there.

For the next week, Azira did nothing but read on the possibilities of  _ forcing  _ a demon to appear. Maybe it wasn’t polite of him, but he needed to see Crowley. He missed him. There was so much he wanted to talk about, to say, to  _ do _ , and Crowley wasn’t there. Crowley had left him just when Azira thought that they might lay together again—and that had left Azira with so many thoughts he didn’t want to think. It was imperative that he find Crowley again. And still, he couldn’t find him.

By the next Saturday, Azira didn’t even bother going to the bookshop to try again. He stayed at home, in his rundown little home. It was a cottage type place with a single floor and just one room, but it had been all Azira had ever wanted. It was a place where he could sit by the fireplace and read his books without distraction, and he’d loved it. Now, it just felt like a prison. It was a reminder that Azira was alone, and he’d only ever planned to  _ be _ alone. Not even a second room for a roommate, should he ever have been so inclined.

Azira just stayed in bed. It was the first time and the  _ longest  _ time he’d ever decided to do this, but he’d never felt so abandoned, either. Even when his parents had kicked him out, he had a place to go, and he had someone to rely on. But this time? He was alone. Anathema would scold him if she knew he’d  _ actually _ summoned a demon. Anyone would. He’d scold himself. He really believed that Crowley cared about him and enjoyed him. That Crowley might have even enjoyed his  _ body _ . He’d been stupid. No amount of berating when fix what he’d done, but it wouldn’t stop him from kicking himself. Abusing himself, maybe.

Azira hadn’t even realized he was crying until he felt a sudden wave of warmth through the room, a near comical  _ pop _ . He quickly wiped his eyes and pushed himself up to look off into the direction of whatever he’d just heard, but he didn’t have to look far. Crowley.

Crowley.

Crowley was sitting on his bed, cross-legged with his glasses pushed up into his hair. Crowley looked unhappy, eyebrows raised like that.

“I have never had a human cry over me,” he said. “I really didn’t intend for you to do that, either. There was stuff to sort out, you see, and—” Crowley didn’t get to finish his explanation before Azira had thrown himself into Crowley’s arms. Crowley caught him, because of course, he would, but his eyes went wide, and he hesitated to touch.

“Azira—what?” Crowley sounded shocked.

“Where have you been!?” Azira shouted. He hadn’t meant it, but he pounded his fist into Crowley’s chest. “I needed you—I called for you! Where have you been? Oh, Crowley, I missed you.”

Crowley blinked. “I—I was. Well. I couldn’t stay,” he finally decided. “I could feel it, even if you wouldn’t tell me. There’s someone that you  _ love, _ and I couldn’t take that from you. That’s what I’d do. I’d take everything from you—it’s what  _ demons _ do. I didn’t want that.”

Crowley expected Azira to be touched, to understand, and to send him away. Crowley did not expect Azira’s face to wrench up somewhere between amusement, confusion, and displeasure. Those were certainly not feelings Crowley attempted to bestow on a normal day, and all three of them had somehow wound their way into Azira’s face.

“How stupid could you possibly be?!” Azira shouted. “You’re a demon with all this power at your disposal, and for not even a minute could you tell that that love was  _ for you?!” _

Crowley froze. Love? For  _ him? _ That couldn’t be right, but Azira looked so sure of his comment. That he loved Crowley.

“Crowley, I’ve been trying so hard to show you, and then you left me! I thought—I thought you hated me, oh, Crowley!” Azira collapse back into Crowley’s chest, and this time, Crowley held him tight.

“I’m an idiot,” Crowley muttered. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

Azira responded with not but a nod.

Crowley only held him tighter, for as long as he could manage, until Azira pulled away from him to better situate himself. Azira put his hands around Crowley’s face, and their breaths mingled between them as Azira came closer. Azira remembered the very first time he’d met Crowley, when Crowley had laid him out on the sofa and been so gentle, so kind with him. He remembered it, and he wanted  _ more _ . He hadn’t been able to say that for so long.

“Crowley,” Azira whispered. He needn’t say more.

Crowley surged forward, and they kissed through a clank of teeth and a touch of tongue. Crowley had Azira flat down on his back, head in the pillows, and he kissed him with all the vigor he’d held back the first time. He’d taken one look at Azira, those months ago, and wanted to do nothing but ravish him, pull him apart piece by piece, and maybe that was just what they’d do.

Azira’s legs fell open for him, and Crowley pressed up between them so he could grind their hips together. Azira could already feel the hard curve of Crowley’s cock through his pants, and he moaned at every grind of it down into his vulva. Crowley just swallowed his moans while they kissed. There were teeth, then, too; Crowley nibbled along Azira’s bottom lip until Azira’s mouth had dropped open. Then there was that tongue, swirling around Azira’s mouth and finding all those little spots Azira didn’t know he had.

There was already slick dampening his underwear, and every press of Crowley’s hips was just a reminder. Azira needed out of his clothes, immediately, and he didn’t care how it happened. Crowley seemed to just  _ know _ that, and maybe it was an incubus thing, but maybe Azira didn’t care. All he cared about was how Crowley was all but ripping his night shirt away from him. He’d pulled away from their kiss to focus on his task: getting Azira naked. Once he was, Crowley  _ groaned _ at the sight of him. He’d been dreaming about this.

Crowley should have never lost his composure, but he didn’t have a mind to think of it, anymore. Azira was naked, spread out beneath him, and that was all that he could have wanted.

“You’ll tell me,” Crowley panted out. “You’ll tell me if I do  _ anything _ you don’t like.” It wasn’t a question; it was a demand. One that Azira readily agreed to.

Crowley molded his hands over Azira’s chest and tweaked his nipples, hard—Azira only groaned, gasped out with the sudden rush of it. While Crowley worked over his chest, squeezing his nipples and molding his fat between his fingers, Crowley kissed along Azira’s neck. All the marks had faded, and he would work hard to make sure they were all back. Every mark he left, every pinch of a nipple, had Azira panting and gasping, rolling his hips up into Crowley’s like he wanted more.

Crowley was certainly going to give him more, if that’s what he wanted.

“Wait—wait, wait,” Azira panted, just when Crowley’s hand had made way down between his thighs.

Crowley froze immediately. “What is it? Have I hurt you?”

“No, no. Oh, Crowley,” Azira breathed. “I want you naked,” he said. “I want—I want to do something for you, too.”

Crowley looked down at him in disbelief. He knew Azira was no virgin, but Azira had always seemed so  _ shy _ . Yet, there he was, demanding to see Crowley naked, offering himself up like that. It was all Crowley could do to keep himself calm, as he pulled back to start undoing his clothes. He could see it in Azira’s eyes—Azira had no interest in just  _ seeing _ him naked. He wanted to watch him get that way.

“What will you do for me?” Crowley asked. He started with his sunglasses, which he set off on Azira’s nightstand. Then went the tie.

“I—I don’t know,” Azira admitted. “I haven’t been with anyone for so long.”

“I’ll tell you what you’ll do,” Crowley said, unbuttoning his shirt. “You’ll do whatever I ask of you. I can see how eager you are to please, to do what you’re told.”

Azira visibly shivered, and there was a clench in his thighs, like he was holding himself back from coming right there.

“I’ll have you between my knees,” Crowley continued, now, slipping his jacket off his shoulders, first. He left his shirt hang open while he went for his belt. “I want your mouth on my cock, angel. You’ll choke on it, take it back into your throat and hold me there, won’t you?”

Azira couldn’t scramble up to his knees fast enough, waiting for Crowley to shimmy out of his trousers. Crowley wasn’t wearing underwear beneath them, but, how could he? Once they were down off of his hips, his cock had sprung free, hard, and with a pearling bead of precum right at the tip.

“I don’t—I’ve never,” Azira tried to admit, but Crowley just held a finger up to his own lips in a gesture of silence. Azira clamped his lips together immediately.

Crowley took Azira by the chin and brought him closer, down to his hands and knees, until he was crawling forward, level with Crowley’s long cock. His bollocks were heavy and dark, like he was nearly ready to come. Azira couldn’t help but feel a bit prideful, that by seeing him naked, Crowley was like this already.

“Open your mouth,” Crowley instructed. “Let me guide you. Just use your tongue first, dove. You’ll want to get a taste; I know you will.”

Azira parted his lips and let his tongue dip out, taking the first taste of the tip, the precum dripping there. The taste of it was like nothing Azira had imagined, salty and almost bitter, but he found himself wanting more of it. He licked along the length of Crowley’s cock, savoring every inch he could find his tongue around. The entire time, Crowley guided him with a hold in his hair, teaching him just how he should move, how he should drag his tongue along the underside and spend special attention right at the tip, tonguing over the slit. That made Crowley’s hips buck forward, desperate for more of that touch.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Crowley told him. “Are you ready for more?”

Azira nodded, enthusiastically. Crowley dared say that he looked  _ cute _ , desperate for a true taste of cock in his mouth. Crowley wouldn’t be one to deny him that, so he gripped the base of his cock in order to help guide it between Azira’s parted lips.

They started slow, where Azira only had Crowley’s cockhead in his mouth. Crowley told him how to suck, how to move, and it wasn’t long before Crowley was pushing inch by inch into that welcoming warmth. When Azira did choke, Crowley stopped and pulled back. He promised that Azira would get used to it; it was a devilish sort of promise that left all sorts of possibilities to float about, and Azira tried not to think of them as he worked with what he had.

Crowley’s cock was heavy in his mouth, dripping precum right into the back of his throat as he sucked. Azira bobbed his head, working his tongue along the underside as he moved. He tried whatever he could think of—everything except teeth. Crowley made it very clear that this was not a time for teeth, and Azira had curled his lips back over them as he sucked. Crowley’s hips bucked forward on every suck, every lick that Azira gave him. Maybe Azira wasn’t skilled, but the way that he was  _ looking _ at Crowley had Crowley ready to burst, right there.

As his hips moved, he worked himself steadily deeper and deeper into Azira’s mouth, until he could feel the way Azira swallowed him down his throat. Crowley groaned out his appreciation, running his fingers through Azira’s hair as he did.

“Just like that,” Crowley urged. “You’re doing so well.”

Azira had his nose buried in the light thatch of hair at the base of Crowley’s cock, nearly the entirety of that cock down his throat. The feeling of it, heavy inside of him like that, had Azira trembling. He was dripping down the folds of his cunt, his eyes half-lidded with his pleasure. Having Crowley’s prick just resting there felt better than Aziraphale could have ever imagined, and if he could have just stayed like that. Crowley had a different idea, though.

The disappointed sound Azira made at the loss of Crowley’s cock did not go unnoticed, but Crowley soothed him fast with a kiss. Then, he had Azira turn around with his head towards the headboard, still on his hands and knees. Crowley settled in behind him, where he could pull apart at the soft skin of his cunt and see just how wet Azira had gotten. He spread his tongue through Azira’s lips, speared inside of him until he could taste more of that sweet slick. Azira was trembling, and Crowley didn’t want to risk that he would fall.

“Are you ready for me?” Crowley asked.

“Please, Crowley. I’ve  _ been _ ready, oh,  _ please _ .”

Crowley grinned and smoothed his hands down over Azira’s backside. “I love it when you beg,” he said. Then, he brought down one of his hands  _ hard _ over Azira’s arse, just to watch the way it jiggled. Azira yelped, but he didn’t say  _ stop _ . “Beg me some more,” Crowley demanded.

Azira did exactly that, as Crowley pushed into him. He begged and gasped for more, every inch that Crowley sunk into him. It didn’t take long before Azira was working himself back onto Crowley’s cock, using Crowley there to find his own pleasure. That made Crowley’s heart swell more than anything, watching the way Azira fucked himself back. There was such a beautiful roll in his skin, each time their hips slapped together, that Crowley couldn’t keep his eyes off.

He smoothed his hands down Azira’s back, kissing whatever skin he could reach and rocking his hips in encouragement. Where Azira begged, Crowley  _ praised _ . He wanted Azira to know how good he was doing, how good he was making Crowley feel. Even when Crowley slapped him, again, it was because he’d been  _ good _ . Crowley wanted to watch the way his fat moved, the way his entire body rolled and jiggled with his pleasure. There wasn’t a piece of him that Crowley didn’t try to have his hands, to squeeze and mold and  _ feel _ . Oh, he thought Azira was beautiful.

Crowley reached around Azira to take hold of the soft skin on his chest, using his sudden leverage to pull Azira up, his back to Crowley’s chest. Azira gasped out at the sudden change of position, but Crowley was fucking him harder than he had before. Crowley worked in and out of him—even if the angle was shallow, now, it still felt like everything Azira had ever wanted. And it was  _ better _ . Crowley had reached a hand down, while one still worked over a hardening, red little nipple, to fondle over the whole of his cunt.

Crowley had his thumb over Azira’s cunt and a finger sneaking down to feel over the stretch of his hole, where he dripped and drooled with his pleasure. Crowley could feel every beg for  _ more _ that Azira had to give, and when Crowley pressed his finger inside along his cock, Azira’s jaw dropped open in a loud cry.

“Crowley—Oh, Crowley, please, please—I’m so close!” Azira gasped with every thrust, trying to work himself back to meet Crowley’s shallow, pointed thrusts.

Every move had Crowley’s cockhead right up against that spot that had Azira shivering, trembling— _ dripping _ . He was so close. The stutter in Crowley’s hips said that he was close, too. The thought that they might come together this time was enough to have Azira moaning, again.

“Inside me,” he begged. “Inside me, Crowley, please—”

Crowley had to bite down into Azira’s skin to keep himself from saying something vulgar. This was only just beginning; he wasn’t about to jeopardize that with anything that had the potential to upset Azira. Even if the  _ idea _ of claiming Azira like that, filling Azira with his spawn, was enough to have Crowley moaning, too, he wouldn’t say it. He’d do exactly what Azira wanted and snapped his fingers so nothing would happen, and then  _ maybe _ he’d let himself dream about it.

Still, he fucked forward. He pulled his finger back that he could cup Azira’s fat, little cunt his hands and squeeze Azira’s clit between his fingers. When Azira came, it was in a beautiful cry of Crowley’s names, where his thighs trembled, and the walls of his cunt clamped down. Crowley followed suit, in just the way he’d been asked. He came in streaks inside of Azira, his hips stuttering until he’d finished.

With a snap of his fingers, they were both entirely clean before they’d hit the pillows—and it wasn’t even noon, yet. Azira took his time to curl up at Crowley’s side, his face tucked up in the junction of Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley, in return, traced idle shapes in the spaces of Azira’s back that he could reach.

“Will you go, again?” Azira asked. “I don’t know when our contract is up—”

“It’s already up,” Crowley said. “Part of why I disappeared. I was getting rid of it.”

“What?” Azira pushed himself up. When his elbows wobbled, his arms shook, Crowley brought him back down to rest on his chest. “Why would you do that?”

“So, we could do this,” Crowley told him. “A contract like that would have done nothing but hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Will you still—will you be with me?” Azira asked. “You won’t leave me, will you?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to stay by your side,” Crowley said. He rolled to face Azira, so he could wrap Azira up in his arms and hold him close. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Azira smiled into Crowley’s chest. That was all that he could have asked for. Whatever it would take, they would figure it out, and they would do it together. Maybe Anathema had been joking but summoning a demon truly  _ did _ seem to solve all of Azira’s problems. Maybe it had caused new problems, but Azira would entertain those after a brief nap, there, in Crowley’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> 𓆏 Froge Smooches 𓆏  
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> 


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